TI’ve always said the world is a very, small place. Further proof of that was provided through a chance meeting with a young man volunteering at my favourite hostel in Puerto Escondio, Mexico last month.

I was on vacation with my two sons, James and Dylan, during the university reading week when I met George Pearson at the Bonita Escondido hostel.

George, 26, first introduced himself as a Yorkshireman. He had just started volun-teering at the hostel and was working behind the bar which gave us a lot of time to talk about traveling and music. As it turned out we both have an affinity for 60s and 70s classic rock including Pink Floyd and The Doors. I always have time for a young man with an old soul and great musical taste, especially if he can make a wicked gin and tonic.

At one point during my stay I was chatting with George in the presence of my son Dylan, when Dylan asked him where in the UK he was from? George answered “York”. To which Dylan asked, “Where in York?” “Ripon,” was his reply.

“Ripon,” Dylan shot back. “My dad’s family is from Ripon.” To which I responded, “What are you taking about? I thought dad’s family was from Nottinghamshire?”

Apparently, Dylan did the whole ancestry search for my dad’s family, without telling me about it, and it turns out that my dad’s family is, indeed, from Ripon which is located in North Yorkshire and has a population of 16,703.

Now, I’m no mathematician, but it seems to me the odds of meeting someone from my dad’s, and therefore my ancestral home which is only slightly bigger than Carleton Place, are long indeed.

As it turns out the history of Ripon dates back to 658 AD when a Christian church dedicated to St. Peter was built near the confluence of the Laver and Skell tributaries that feed into the River Ure during the time of the Anglian kingdom of Northumbria.
The church was built by Eata of Hexham a Northumbrian nobleman who would later became Archbishop of York and eventually St. Wilfrid.

The community survived under Viking and later Norman control for the next 300 years, until the buildings around the church were burned to the ground in reprisal for a Northumbrian rebellion against England.

In 1069, construction began on a new stone church which would eventually evolve into the current Ripon cathedral which was built between the 13th and 16th centuries.
Besides the massive cathedral, Ripon is also home to a race course and a pop up drive-in theatre during the summer. It’s other claim to fame is that it was renowned for making spurs during the 16th century.

So, of course, now I need to visit Ripon, England, to connect on a physical and spiritual level with my fraternal roots. In the meantime, I’ve asked George to wander through the local cemetery and crypt to see if he could find any evidence of the Sherwins having been there.

George was just one of the amazing young people I met on this latest visit to Puerto Escondido. There was Pélon from Puebla, Paco from Mexico City, Tom from Milan, Maria from Argentina, Tyyna from Finland, Karla from NYC, Taylor from San Francisco, and Shaden from Paris.

I was also able to reconnect with some of the people who now work and live in Puerto including Lilly, Nadia, Victor and Richard, all of whom ended up staying in Puerto after visiting the place for less than a month. Lilly from the UK, Nadia, who’s from New Zealand and Richard, who hails from Mississauga, have all been there for over three years now and Victor, who’s from Paris by way of Montréal, has been there for just over a year.

Punta de Zicatella, better known as just “La Punta”, is one of the few places on earth where you can work, play and dine out without ever having to wear a shirt, because the temperature is always around 30 degrees, plus or minus one or two degrees.
It’s one of the most magical places I have ever been and I will continue going back there until the day I die.

(If you wish to comment on this or any other View Point column please write to Fred Sherwin at fsherwin@orleansstar.ca)